


Dean - 18

by phantisma



Series: Ages [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Knifeplay, M/M, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-24
Updated: 2006-10-24
Packaged: 2017-11-13 08:16:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/501381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantisma/pseuds/phantisma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU - When Dean is 18, he graduates high school.  Sam discovers some of Dean's secrets and their father reappears...but what exactly does he have in mind?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dean - 18

When he was 18, he graduated from high school. Dean wasn’t at the top of his class, but he graduated with honors. Everyone important to him showed up for the ceremony, even those he wouldn’t acknowledge. He spotted his father in the back of the auditorium as he crossed the stage. His steps didn’t falter, and when he looked back he was gone.

He smiled for Sam who was grinning wildly at him, then re-took his seat and put his father completely out of his mind. In the pressing mass of people exiting the building after the ceremony, Tony slipped up behind him and squeezed his ass. “Are you coming tonight?”

Dean shook his head. “Can’t. Got family stuff.”

Tony ran a hand down his back. “Come after. I’ll be up. I’ve got a present for you.”

Dean hissed as Tony’s hand found the week old bruise on his ribs. “Maybe. I’ll see.”

He spotted Sam and waved and Tony disappeared into the crowd to find his own family. There were hugs; Janet, Jenny, Sam and laughter. “I am so proud of you.” Janet said in his ear.

“I’m proud of me too.” Things were strained between them, but for the first time since Dean had ended their fucked up physical relationship, he could fee actual affection from her.

“Sam and I had a bet about whether or not you’d trip crossing the stage.” Jenny said with a smile. “Of course, I totally said you were grace under pressure, and would glide. Sam’s doing my chores for the next three days.”

“You should know better, Sammy, betting against your brother like that.”

“Dude, I’ve seen you trip in the hall, just going to class.”

“That’s probably because he was too busy looking at the pretty girls.” Jenny countered, slipping her arm into his.

Dean kissed her forehead. “But none as pretty as you, Jen.” She blushed prettily, a shade almost matching her hair. “Now, I was promised a party.”

“Yes, you were. Come on you two, let’s get the graduate to his party.”

 

The restaurant was closed to public business, and the owner had decorated the place in streamers and balloons. The entire staff turned out, along with the track team and a bunch of other classmates who would spend the day hopping from party to party.

There were presents and cake and music, but Dean was done with the fuss of it in the first hour. Crowds made him uncomfortable. Especially when they included his psychiatrist, his little brother, the foster mother he’d been fucking until four months ago and the foster sister who worshipped him. The four people in the world who knew most of his secrets.

Most.

He looked up as Tony and a few of the football jocks came in. There came more of his secrets. He sighed and let his eyes scan over the room, then froze. His father’s eyes met his through the front window. “Son of a bitch!” he exclaimed quietly. Dean pushed off the wall and weaved through the crowd. He ducked out the door and looked, but John Winchester was gone. He took a few steps, his eyes scanning the street. As he neared the alley, a hand closed around his wrist and pulled him off the sidewalk and into the shadows, shoving him into the wall with a hand over his mouth.

He struggled until his father’s face became clear, then he went slack. The hands holding him loosened up. “Nice to see you too.” Dean muttered, straightening his clothes.

“I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me.”

Dean cocked his head to one side. “I get that. You could have just come inside.”

“You don’t want Sam to see me.”

“No offense, Dad, but how do you know what I want?” Dean asked, surprised that the question was sincere and not laced with anger.

“Well, do you? Want Sam to know I was here?”

“He’s not a little boy anymore Dad. I don’t get to protect him that way. You should ask him what he wants.”

John sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I don’t want to fight. I came to congratulate you. I’m proud of you.”

Dean crossed his arms. “Thank you.”

“What are you going to do now?”

“I’ve been accepted at the Culinary institute here in town. I start in a month.”

“So soon? What happened to the age of the summer road trip after graduation?” John smiled and Dean relaxed.

“Its when the next class starts. Otherwise it would be November.”

“So, cooking?”

Dean shrugged. “I enjoy it.”

“Good for you, Dean. Really.”

“Thanks Dad. I should get back inside. You want to come in?”

“Does he hate me?”

“Sam?”

John hung his head, then nodded. “No, I don’t think he hates you. Not anymore.”

“What about your foster family?”

Dean grinned. “You’re my father. You’re welcome at my graduation party.”

John’s smile was bright. “Then I would definitely like to come in.”

Dean inclined his head and moved back out into the sun. He found Sam through the window before he got to the door. He and Janet were talking with his track coach. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to my coach, and Janet.”

Sam’s eyes met his, then flicked over his shoulder and back, surprise in their green depths. Dean smiled reassuringly. Janet looked up as they stopped, her face going a little pale. “Dad, this is Janet Caplin and Coach Trebor. Janet, Coach, this is our father.”

John stuck out his hand and the coach was the first to take it. “Well, Mr. Winchester, you have quite the son here.”

“I think that maybe Ms. Caplin has more to do with that than I do.” John said, his eyes moving to Janet. “I owe you a lot, taking care of my boys the way you have. Things have been much easier for me knowing they were well cared for.”

“They’re good kids.” Janet managed, her arm snaking around Sam almost protectively.

John’s smile faded a little, then he turned to Sam. “Sam.”

“Dad.” Sam’s face was unreadable.

“You’re taller than your brother.”

Sam chuckled at that, though he stayed tense. “Yeah…growth spurt.”

“Can’t call him squirt anymore.” Dean said in mock indignation.

“How are you?”

“I’m good Dad. Really good.”

Dean could feel the hurt rolling off his father, and glared at Sam. Sam glared back. “I’m glad you came for Dean. It’s a big day.”

“Yes, it is. I couldn’t miss it.”

Something like alarm lit in Sam’s eyes. Dean wasn’t sure why until he realized that his father had to have been checking up on them to know when he was graduating. John didn’t seem to see the concern.

“I couldn’t help but notice that you got yourself an Impala.” John said to Dean. “I really miss that car.”

Sam’s eyes went wide as he looked at Dean. “We had an Impala before?”

John looked at him like he was crazy. “You don’t remember, Sam?”

Sam shook his head, his eyes stabbing daggers at his brother. “I loved that car.”

“What happened to it?” Sam asked, though he was still looking at Dean.

“I had to ditch it. Not far from here. You take good care of that car, she’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”

“Sammy helped me fix her up.” Dean offered, trying to smooth the anger he saw brewing in Sam’s face.

“Dean, there you are.” Dean looked up and stiffened.

“Dr. MacAfferty.”

John turned to Dean, his face unreadable.

“Who is this?”

Dean got the distinct impression that MacAfferty knew exactly who his father was. He sighed. “Dr. MacAfferty, this is my father, John Winchester. Dad, Dr. MacAfferty.”

Dean watched as they sized each other up, waiting for one or the other to say something, waiting for the inevitable confrontation as his father realized she was the one prescribing the drugs he despised. Eventually though it was MacAfferty that spoke.

“I have to get going, Dean. I just wanted to make sure to see you and let you know how proud I am of the progress you’ve made.” She shook his hand and drew him close. “Call me if you need to talk about this. I’ll clear a place on my calendar.”

Dean smiled for her. “Sure. Thanks for coming, Dr. MacAfferty.”

“I’ll see you for your regular appointment in two weeks?”

“Of course.”

“It was a pleasure to meet you finally Mr. Winchester.”

“Yeah, you too.” John watched her leave, then looked at Dean.

Dean cut off the argument he saw brewing. “Leave it Dad. Let me have this.”

John pressed his lips together and nodded. “Right. I guess, I should let you be with your friends.” He turned back to Sam and Janet. “If it’s okay with Ms. Caplin, I’d like to have dinner with you boys before I leave town.”

Janet looked to Dean who shrugged, then to Sam who nodded minutely. “Yes, it’s okay with me. How long are you in town?”

“Just tonight and tomorrow.”

“We’ll meet you here tomorrow around 6.” Sam said.

John nodded. “Good.” He pulled Dean into a hug. “Congratulations again, Son. I’m proud of you.” As he released Dean, he found Sam’s hand stuck out, circumventing the hug. He shook it with a sad smile. “Sam.”

Dean exhaled slowly as John walked away. Sam was obviously worked up. Dean was grateful when Tony appeared at his elbow. “Hey, dude, Christy wants you to sign her cast.” He let Tony pull him away toward a group of classmates near the cake. “Was that your old man?”

He nodded, no longer surprised at the way Tony could read him. It had been nearly a year since he’d pushed him into a door and hurt him in exactly the way Dean had needed…and every time Dean needed it, he was there. He still bore the marks from the last time. He knew that the appearance of his father was probably the final push that would bring him to Tony’s house later that night.

He let himself be drawn into the familiar banter as he joined team mates and others in the circle around Christy, who he’d taken to the prom, when her date dumped her and his came down with a nasty virus. Even as he knelt next to her with a sharpie to sign her cast, he could feel Sam’s eyes in his back. He made the choice to ignore him.

It was nearly 10pm when Dean pulled up in front of Tony’s house. It had taken him that long to extricate himself from his family. He was exhausted. Sam hadn’t argued, hadn’t even brought up the subject of their father, but Dean had stayed tense until Sam had announced he was going to bed.

Dean sat in the Impala, staring at Tony’s house. His bedroom light was on. The rest of the house was dark. As fucked up as Dean’s family was, his father had shown up for his graduation. Tony’s was on a business trip. He knew he had to end this. It wasn’t healthy for either of them. Tony’s curtains moved and Dean’s cock twitched.

He hated how he wanted what Tony gave him…how he let Tony hurt him, how he begged for Tony to hurt him. It was almost more fucked up than the thing with Janet. With a groan that matched the one the Impala’s door made, Dean got out of the car.

Tony was at the door, in jeans and nothing else, his bare chest strong and broad. He smiled. “I knew you’d come.”

“Not yet.” Dean said with a smirk as Tony stepped aside and let him in. Tony’s hand slapped his ass as he passed.

“My room.” His voice was already moving into that tone, commanding, demanding. Dean’s cock noticed. “Naked. Now.”

Dean inhaled sharply, then pulled his shirt up over his head while he toed off his shoes. Tony’s hands were on his back before he got his zipper open. Dean could feel him exploring the bruise along his ribs, checking the healing. “Good,” he murmured. His lips connected with the back of Dean’s neck. “I’m going to hurt you tonight, mark you.”

Dean’s breathing hitched as Tony’s hands dipped into his open jeans. “I’ve got a present for you. Now, get naked.”

Tony stepped back, watching as Dean finished undressing. He liked to watch, take his time and examine Dean. He paid close attention to the wounds that came with being Dean Winchester, the occasional burns from the kitchen, cuts and scrapes from working on his car, the bruises he picked up in half a dozen ways…and the tiny cuts Dean made himself.

The last set were nearly healed, three thin lines on his left thigh, high up, near his hip. They were easier to hide there. Tony’s hands skimmed over them, pressing lightly to test the healing, watching Dean’s face for any signs that they still pained him.

“On the bed Winchester…on your back.”

Dean didn’t hesitate, he climbed on the bed and laid down, his hands instinctively rising above his head and gripping the headboard. Tony watched him for a minute, stroking himself through his jeans, and when his eyes focused on Dean’s cock, it came to life. It made Tony smile and shed his jeans. He moved onto the bed, up between Dean’s knees, before leaning over him for the bedside table. He pulled out the usual items, a bottle of lube, a condom, the leather belt he used to bind Dean’s hands and an unusual one. The box hid the present from view as Tony set it on the bed next to Dean and lay across him to bind his hands to the headboard. Their cocks rubbed together as he did it and Dean felt his flood with heat.

Dean’s eyes locked on the box, while Tony ignored it completely, rolling on the condom and taking a minute to lube up. “I couldn’t help but notice, Winchester, that your father looks a lot like me.” Tony’s voice was so casual Dean almost missed what he said. Tony positioned himself with the head of his cock at Dean’s ass without even touching him to prep him. “Do you have a Daddy kink? Is that why you let me do this to you?”

Dean opened his mouth to say something, to deny it, but all that came out was a low growling groan as Tony pushed inside him. “Did he train you to take orders the way you do?”

Dean can only nod as Tony pushes further in, harder, pulling out slowly before pushing back in. “Maybe I should thank him.” He didn’t wait for Dean to adjust, just set a punishing rhythm while pushing on Dean’s thighs. Dean arched up into Tony, trying to press his cock against the bigger boy’s belly for some friction, but Tony just slows and chuckles. “Oh, no…not yet. I told you…I’ve got a present.”

Tony buries himself as deep as he can and holds himself there, reaching to open the box. Dean’s breath hitches when he lifts a blade from the box, a beautiful, gleaming blade that ends in a hilt of what looks like red marble. Dean’s eyes latch on to it, mesmerized as Tony danced it through the air toward him.

The metal was cold as it touched his skin and Dean hissed, half in reaction, half in desire. “Do you want it?”

At first Dean can’t answer, his eyes caught on the instrument of pain, his teeth clenched. Tony shoved inside him and pulled out, before slamming back in. “Answer.”

Dean’s eyes flicked to Tony’s and his cock moved between them. “Yes,” he finally managed and he was rewarded by Tony dragging the tip over his chest, leaving a long white trail as he scratched up toward a nipple.

“Yes what?”

“Fuck.” Dean whimpered, shifting under him and trying to find a way to get a little friction on his cock.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I want it.” Dean gasped as it bit a little deeper into his skin.

Tony stroked into him once, twice…three times, sliding the blade down over Dean’s abdomen. Dean closed his eyes and was rewarded with the feeling of cold marble against his cock. Tony let him rub against the hilt for a minute, then was trailing the cold stone back up the same trail the blade had made. “What do you want, Dean?”

Tony laid the blade loosely at the base of Dean’s neck, letting it’s sharp edge caress his collar bone. Dean swallowed, feeling it slide against him, so dangerous…so hot…”Fuck…Tony….Fuck…”

“You know how this works Winchester. This is about you…what you want. You have to tell me.”

Dean closed his eyes and lifted his chin, opening his neck in offering, in submission. “Do it,” he whispered, swallowing again and feeling the knife slide a little on his neck. It cut, not much, but it flooded him with desire for more. “God, Tony…cut me…please…”

Tony took hold of the knife again and thrust his cock into Dean. “You want to bleed for me, baby?” He let the blade slide over Dean’s left nipple, over the hard muscle, slicing a crescent almost tenderly into the skin…not deep, just enough to bring blood up to the skin. “Like that?”

Dean’s cock was already leaking, and if Tony cut him a second time he would be coming all over them both without ever being touched. “Fuck.” Dean felt himself trembling. It went from trembling to full shaking when Tony’s tongue dragged over the wound. 

“More?”

Dean managed a weak nod and Tony resumed his thrusting, fucking harder than before into Dean’s ass, until the entire bed was banging into the wall. “Where, baby? Where do you want it?”

Dean held on to the bed post and gritted his teeth. “Other side…fuck…cut me again…please…Tony…please…”

Tony moved his hand, letting the knife drag over Dean’s chest before bringing the edge up to slice a matching crescent over his right nipple and Dean screamed as his cock twitched and exploded with come all over his chest. Tony dropped the knife to the side and resumed his fucking, rocking the bed into the wall, Dean’s fingers pinching between the headboard and the wall.

“Fuck.” Tony’s last stroke was hard, and he collapsed forward, emptying himself into the condom. As he got his breath back, he reached up to release Dean’s hands. “You gotta go?”

Dean shook his head as he brought his hands down and rubbed his wrists. “I told Janet I was spending the night, since your father wasn’t home. Tony’s grin was evil as he pulled the condom off and tied it off.

“Excellent. That means I get to do that again later.”

Dean chuckled too, because he would let him. Hell, he’d beg him to do it again. And again. He almost wondered if he’d let Tony bleed him dry. It wasn’t like they were friends, or even lovers. That implied something they just didn’t have. Dean wasn’t sure what it was they did have, but he craved the release he only got when Tony hurt him, tied him up and fucked him until he couldn’t talk.

 

Dean left the next day, sore and still bleeding from a wound on his back during the morning’s over enthusiastic screwing. The bandage was tight and would stop the bleeding before he got home. He’d had worse, inflicted by his own hand. There was a lightness to his step as he reached the Impala, a relief he hadn’t felt in a long while, as though each time Tony’s knife had sliced his skin it had released the pressure. He hadn’t slept much, but he felt rested and ready even to face the combination of Sam and his father.

He made it to the house around two and climbed the stairs, thinking a shower and a change of clothes sounded good, but he stopped dead in the doorway of his room as he spotted Sam.

Sam was angry. Really angry. Dean didn’t even need him to say a word to know it. His dark eyes sparkled with fire, his arms crossed over his chest. It didn’t take much to figure out why either. On the bed beside him, Dean’s bed, was a collection of things Dean had thought hidden and secret. A collection of things that he _knew_ his brother would never understand.

“You need to give me a chance to explain, Sam.” Dean said, his heart racing. _Please listen._

“Explain?” Sam held up the journal. “I think this does a pretty good job of that, Dean.”

“No, Sammy. Just give me a minute.” Dean stepped into the room and closed the door. “I can explain.”

Sam wouldn’t look at him. “Where’d you get a gun Dean? How long have you had the fucking gun?”

Dean stared at the floor, hyperventilating. This was going to spiral out of control quickly if he didn’t do something. “Dad. I got it from Dad. He left it for us when he left us.”

Sam looked at him and waited. “I found it in the motel room when I went looking for him.”

“And you’ve had it this whole time?”

Dean nodded. “Yes. I’ve never used it, and only take it out once every six months to check.”

Sam picked it up and looked at it. “You need to give it back to him.”

“Sam.” Dean shook, not sure what he was more afraid of at that moment, Sam’s anger or his father’s disappointment. “I can’t…he…wants us to be safe.”

“This isn’t safe, Dean.” Sam put the gun down and picked up the knife. “What about this? Where did it come from?”

Dean licked his lips. “It’s mine. I bought it.”

“Why?”

Dean shook his head. “I don’t know.” He couldn’t tell Sam why, couldn’t tell him that he needed the sharp moments of pain to cut through the fog in his head, needed the blood to remind him he was alive…that he could actually feel something real.

“Who’s blood is on it?”

Sam held it up and Dean took two stumbling steps closer to look at the blade. He was always so careful to clean it, to not leave any evidence. “Sam…I can’t do this right now…I can’t.”

“Answer me.” Sam’s voice was ragged with rage and Dean fell to his knees in front of his brother.

“Mine, Sam. It’s mine.” He reached up to take the knife and Sam let him, some of the anger draining from his face as he realized what Dean was saying.

“How long?”

Dean shook his head, unconsciously running the blade over the denim covering his thigh. “A while…I don’t know…”

“Where?”

Dean looked up, startled by the question. “Where?”

“Where do you cut yourself?” Sam asked, his lips a thin line.

“My thighs mostly.” Dean sighs and sinks lower onto his heels.

“Show me.”

Dean shook his head. “No, Sam. You don’t need to see—“

“Show me now Dean, or so help me I will have Dr. MacAfferty here in ten minutes.”

Sam knew exactly which threat would reach him, because as much as he feared Sam discovering his dirty little secrets, having them exposed to MacAfferty was at least ten times worse. It would lead to an extended stay in the psych ward, with drugs and treatments that made him feel small and defeated and broken.

Dean swallowed and got to his feet, his fingers fumbling with his jeans. He felt exposed and uncomfortable as they fell to his knees and he lifted the hem of his boxers to show the three lines of healing cuts. “I haven’t done it in a few weeks.”

“Shut up.” Sam’s tone was hard, but Dean could feel the concern in it as he looked at the wounds. When he was satisfied, he nodded and Dean pulled up his pants. “Anywhere else?”

Dean shook his head, but wouldn’t let his eyes meet his brother’s. Sam seemed to read that as a lie. “Show me.”

“No. Please, Sam.”

“Where?”

“That’s the only place I cut myself Sam.”

Sam stood suddenly, his face in Dean’s, his hands fisting in Dean’s shirt. “What does that mean?” Dean winced as Sam’s fists connected with the thin cuts on his chest. “Jesus Christ, Dean.” Sam exclaimed as he recognized the pained expression and pulled the shirt up.

Tony had made good use of his present for Dean, and had added a second set of matching wounds under Dean’s chest, as well as the deeper one on his back. Sam’s finger traced them, and Dean held his breath. “Who did this?”

Dean pushed him away and shook his head. “No, Sam. Just no. It’s enough that you know this much. I’m not telling you—“

“Tony.” Sam said stalking after him. “You let him do this to you, didn’t you? Did you let him fuck you too, Dean?”

“That is none of your business, little brother. None of this is.”

The fury all came back to Sam’s face. “You’re my brother, and you’re slipping away from me. How is that not my business?”

“I’m not slipping anywhere Sam.”

“No? That’s not what this says.” He stormed back to the bed and held up the journal. Dean couldn’t even remember the last time he’d written in it.

“Page after page, Dean…rambling about ghosts and demons. Sketches of houses where you’ve seen them. Symbols. Vampires. Witches. The car. The fucking car, Dean.”

“Sam, I haven’t touched that in more than a year.”

Sam looked up at him, fear starting to replace the anger. “Dean, your last entry is dated three days ago. It includes a protective sigil, which I just happen to have found painted on the floor under your bed.”

“What?” Dean snatched the book away from him and sure enough, it was his hand writing and the date was only three days old. “I didn’t do this Sam.”

“I suppose you didn’t salt all the windows in the house either?” Sam’s voice was quiet, his eyes on the floor.

“No, I swear.”

“I think we should call MacAfferty, Dean.”

Dean took a deep breath, blinking back tears. Nothing made any sense. It was all wrong. “Maybe I’ve missed some pills. We should check.” If that was it, he could convince Sam to give him time, get back on schedule, make things right again.

“I already did Dean. You haven’t missed any.”

“This is messed up Sammy. I didn’t…I don’t remember…” Dean dropped the book, shaking now. “God Sammy, what is wrong with me?”

Sam pulled him close, his arms circling around him protectively. “I don’t know, Dean. But I’m going to help you, okay? You trust me, right?”

Dean nodded, his head moving against Sam’s shoulder. “Okay. We’re going to start by getting you into a nice hot tub, help you relax. I’ll call Dr. MacAfferty, see if we can go see her.”

“What about Dad?”

“Shit.”

“No, its okay, Sam. We don’t have to go right away. Call her and tell her we’ll come in the morning. You deserve time with Dad.”

“I’d rather have time with you Dean. I don’t care about Dad.”

Dean shook his head. “I do. He does…I mean he does care. He misses you.”

“He’s got a funny way of showing it.”

“Please, Sam? For me? It could be the last chance I get. If—If I’m getting worse…if—“

“No, don’t say that.”

Dean took a deep breath. “We’ll have dinner with Dad. Tomorrow we’ll go see Dr. MacAfferty.”

After a long moment Sam nodded. “Okay. But I’m not leaving your side.”

Dean smiled, though it was shaky. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

 

Several hours later they waited outside the restaurant for their father, silently leaning against the wall, not touching, not talking. When he finally did show up, Dean led them inside to the table Janet had set aside for them. “This really is a nice place.” John said as they sat.

Dean nodded. “Good food too. And, it’s on the house, so order anything that you want.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

Dean smiled. “I didn’t, it’s a gift from Janet.”

John glanced over his shoulder at Janet who was near the kitchen door. “That’s nice.”

“So, how long have you been spying on us, Dad?” Sam asked after they ordered and Dean cringed. Sam wasn’t pulling any of his punches today.

“I don’t think of it as spying, Sam. You’re still my boys.”

Sam snorted. “How long?”

“I never stopped.” John said, his tone casual. “I swing through here as often as I can.”

Sam nodded. “So that was you at the track meet last summer, the one where Dean collapsed?”

John looked at him funny. “Yes, I was there.”

It was Dean’s turn to look surprised. “You were?”

John nodded. “Yes, I didn’t think either of you had seen me.”

“You know, you could have let us know. You could have come to see us.” Sam said, glancing up at the waitress as she set their first course in front of them.

John sighed. “Sam, I wanted to…I really wanted to. But you…seemed so happy.”

“I was.” Sam’s voice was cold and it seemed to be the end of the conversation as far as he was concerned. As their main course was served Sam looked up, his eyes sizing up Dean before turning to his father. “I was happy, Dad. But Dean needed you.”

“Sam.” Dean’s voice was a warning, one Sam didn’t heed.

“He’s a fucked up mess…and it’s your fault.”

“Sam, this isn’t his fault.”

“Yes Dean, it is. Look at him, Dad. I mean, really look at him. Do you have any idea what he’s been through?”

John met Dean’s eyes and he nodded slowly. “Yes, Sam. I do.” He took a deep breath. “I am very sorry Dean, that I couldn’t be there.”

“Dad. Stop. Sam’s just feeling…overprotective today. I’m having a few problems with the meds, and it’s got him upset.”

“Problems?” John asked, glancing aside at Sam.

“If that’s what you call cutting your own skin, or letting someone else do it for you.” Sam muttered.

“Sam!” Dean reached for his hand, squeezing it. “It’s okay, Dad. They have to be adjusted from time to time, that’s all. Its time for an adjustment.”

“Are you having visions again?”

Dean saw the look in Sam’s eyes and shook his head quickly. “No, nothing like that. Just a little memory lapse, some unhealthy behaviors. Really. I’m going into see Dr. MacAfferty tomorrow.”

“I see.” John finished off his beer and pushed his chair back. “I need to go to the bathroom. I’ll be back.”

Dean sighed as he walked away. “Was that necessary?”

Sam shrugged. “He should know. He thinks he did a good thing leaving us here.”

“Don’t you? Aren’t you the one who’s always telling me how good it is here?”

“For me. I can’t help but wonder if you wouldn’t be happier living the way he does.”

Dean felt like he’d been kicked in the gut. “What?”

Sam shook his head. “Forget it.”

“No, Sam. Do you think I would want to leave you here alone?”

“Let’s drop it, okay?”

“For now…but I’m going to want to talk about it later.”

John rejoined them and the conversation quickly turned to Dean’s college plans and Sam’s debate club performance. The rest of the meal was pleasant enough as it could be with three people pointedly ignoring the big crater they sat in.

“So, Dean…how about you show me this car of yours?” John asked as they left the restaurant.

Dean grinned, pulling out the keys. “Yeah, sure. We’re parked out back.” Sam shuffled behind them as Dean bantered about the car. Dean ran a hand lovingly over the black hood. “Almost fully restored.” He said, turning to his father. His eyes lit up in alarm as someone covered Sam’s face and pulled him quickly to the ground. He struggled for a minute, then went still.

“I’m sorry Son.” John said, likewise reaching for Dean.

Two seconds, two breaths of the chemical soaked rag, and Dean fell into his father’s arms.

 

 

Dean’s first waking thought was that his head hurt. Following that quickly was the realization that he was in restraints. For a moment he panicked, thinking he was back in the hospital, then he remembered his father’s whispered apology and Sam’s slumped body. He opened his eyes cautiously. They were in a barn or something. He recognized Pastor Jim by the door, holding a shotgun. Someone else was behind him. Dean’s shirt and shoes were missing, and his ankles and wrists were bound, holding him atop a cot. “Where’s Sam?” he asked and Jim turned.

“He’s safe.”

“Was that you? Did you drug him?”

Jim nodded and came closer. “Yes. I did. I also carried him to the truck and sat with him while your father dealt with you. I secured him in the other room, and tried to explain this to him.”

“Explain what?”

“Your father’s plan.”

“Plan?”

“Don’t blame Jim, Dean.” His father’s voice cut through from his right and Dean turned to see him coming out of another room. Dean got a brief glimpse of a cot and legs before John pulled the door closed and locked it. “I needed to get you clean. Give you a chance to hear me without the drugs in your system.”

Dean’s heart came up to thundering. “I need them. Dad…you have to let us go. You have to. I need them. I can’t…I can’t function.”

John crossed his arms. “No, Dean. You don’t.”

Dean swallowed. “How would you know? You aren’t a doctor Dad. You haven’t seen me without them…you can’t possibly understand.”

“You might be surprised, Dean.” John came closer, leaning over him. “I’m not going to lie to you, Dean, this is going to get bad. A detox of this magnitude should be done in a hospital, but we can’t risk that. You’re going to have to trust me.”

Dean shook his head. “I want to see Sam.”

“Sam is fine.”

“Please. Dad. I need to see Sam.” Dean could feel himself panicking, his heart racing.

John nodded and stood, gesturing to someone else near the door. It slid open and the other man stepped into the room, emerging a moment later with one hand under Sam’s arm. Sam’s eyes were livid, his face pressed inward by the gag in his mouth, his hands bound.

“Sam?” Dean’s voice wavered a little, but Sam nodded. “You okay?”

Sam nodded again, then glared at their father. “It’s okay, Sam. It’s going to be okay.” Dean was rambling, trying to calm Sam, trying to calm himself.

Sam was escorted back into the room and John came back to Dean’s side. “Why is he tied up?”

John chuckled. “He gave Caleb a black eye trying to get away, and he wouldn’t stop yelling for you. We’re pretty far out of town, but somebody would have heard him eventually.”

“Caleb?”

“Yes, Caleb and Pastor Jim are both here, along with a few other friends.”

“What is this, a fucking intervention?”

John chuckled. “You could look at it that way.”

“Dad…please…just…just let us go. No one has to know.”

John’s face softened as he ran a hand over Dean’s forehead. “You’ll thank me when it’s over.”

 

It didn’t take long for Dean to start to feel the affects of withdrawal. His body shook and shivered, sweat coated his body in one minute, and goose bumps the next. He woke up screaming several times. His mouth tasted like vomit, though he didn’t recall throwing up. He was on his side, facing the door behind which they were keeping Sam.

A cold cloth pressed against his head and he looked up. “How long?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“Not long, Son. Two days.”

“Janet’s worried…Sam’s got…got…something…” Dean shook his head, trying to focus. “I need to get to work.”

John’s hand stroked over Dean’s face. “No, Dean, it’s okay.”

“Dad…it hurts.”

“I know, Dean.”

“You have to give me the meds…oh god…you don’t understand. It’s coming….god, Dad…you haven’t seen what it can do…”

“That’s why I need you clear Dean. I need to know.”

“No, it wants me…it can find me…when I…when I see…when I know…it comes…”

John’s fingers rubbed up his back, over muscles tense and tightened. “I’m here, Dean…it can’t get you. Not here.”

“I’m gonna be sick.” John rolled him over to his side and Dean retched, spilling his stomach into the bucket under him.

 

“Sam.” Dean tossed on the cot. He was fevered and delirious. “Sam!”

He opened his eyes, searching. “Dad…I want Sam…I need Sam.”

John sat him up, sliding behind him and holding him tight against him. “It’s okay Dean.”

“No…Sam, need Sam.”

“Okay…Okay…Caleb, give me a hand.”

Dean shook in their arms as Caleb supported one side and John the other, moving him off the cot and toward the door. Inside the room, Sam sat up. The gag had been removed, but his hands were bound and secured to the cot. They settled Dean onto a second cot, covering him with a heavy wool blanket against the chill. “Dad…you have to let Sam go.”

“Not yet Dean.”

“I’m not leaving him.” Sam’s voice was rough, hoarse.

“Sammy…Janet needs…Sammy.”

“No.”

“Dad, let Sam go…let him go home.”

“I can’t do that Dean.”

“Please. Please, Dad. Please.” Dean wasn’t even sure what he was begging for, only that it was important somehow.

“Let me up.” Sam said and Dean tried to focus on his voice. “Let me take care of him.”

John nodded and Caleb moved to untie Sam. Dean felt his hands on his face, stroking over his skin. “Dean, I’m here.”

“Sammy. Sammy…it’s coming…it wants us…”

“It’s okay, Dean. It’s all okay. I’m not going any where.”

“Dad…get Sam out of here. It will kill him…it wants him dead….”

 

Five days. Dean heard them talking. His stomach roiled when he smelled food, but he had nothing left to throw up. He could feel Sam, his head on his hand. His body hurt. The door opened and Dean looked up at his father. “Dad?” his voice was weak, raspy.

Sam stirred, but didn’t sit up. “He’s been there at your side for days without sleep. He finally crashed a few hours ago, when your fever broke.” John leaned against the door. “How do you feel?”

Dean wasn’t sure he had the words for how he felt. His head was clearer than he remembered it being, but his body had never felt so abused, so raw. “Broken,” he finally managed and John nodded.

“I remember that. I can give you something for the pain, if you need it.”

Dean shook his head. The last thing he wanted right now was more drugs. “How long?”

“Seven days. You’re not through it yet, but the worst is over.”

Dean nodded. “I’m thirsty.”

“Caleb’s bringing you some water.”

Dean nodded and shifted as much as he could without disturbing Sam. “Now what?”

“We talk.”

“I’m listening.”

John shook his head. “Not now, not yet.”

Sam stirred again, moaning a little. “Nightmares.” John said.

Dean looked at Sam’s shaggy head. “Sammy?”

John nodded. “I suspected, but he won’t talk to me.” He came closer, squatting beside the cot. “He’s had them every time he falls asleep.”

“I don’t want to wait any more. Tell me what the fuck this is about. Why now? Why not five years ago? “

John sighed. “The signs are getting worse. I was surprised you hadn’t seen them, until I realized how drugged up they had you. How long since you’ve had a vision?”

“That night in the motel with you. I got new meds when I came back.”

John nodded. “When it comes, don’t fight it.”

“What?”

“Once the drugs are out of your system, your gifts should balance out.”

“No.” Dean filled with panic. “No. I don’t want them. Is that why you did this?”

Sam sat up, reaching for Dean. His hand was warm where it connected with Dean’s face. “I’m here, Dean.”

Dean looked at him hard, squinting. There was something different about his baby brother…something more mature, something…”Sammy.”

His tired eyes were unfocused, and Dean felt himself drifting, the odd, not-quite-pain sensation that was followed by blinding pain. He reeled, reaching for Sam who yelled out, grabbing at his own head and bending forward.

Jenny’s face, laughing, then screaming, then covered in blood. Janet, her stomach ripped open, suspended from the ceiling. “No…no…” Sam was moaning and somehow Dean knew he was seeing the exact same thing.

“Sam, relax…if you fight it, it hurts more.” Dean said, his hand in Sam’s hair. “Relax, let it come.” He breathed through it and when the worst was over, looked up at his father. “It’s going after Jenny and Janet. Very soon. It wants us. Me and Sam.”

John frowned at him. “Who is it going to use? There’s no one left in the house but the two of them.”

Sam raised his tear stained face. “Me.” He shook as he pushed himself up off the floor. “Its wearing my face when it kills Jenny.”

Dean stood up on unsteady legs and wrapped his arms around Sam…who had never believed, had never wanted to believe. “I won’t let it have you.” Dean whispered and Sam shook in his arms.

“I have to go away.” Sam whispered. “I can’t…I won’t…”

“Shh…we’ll go, Sammy. Together. You and me.” Dean whispered back.

“Well, if we’re going, it should be soon.” Pastor Jim said from the door. “Police have been nosing around. Won’t be long now before they find us.”

John nodded. “You boys sure?”

Dean looked to Sam, brushing the hair from his face and looking deep into his eyes. The fear he saw there frightened him, but Sam nodded. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“I know Sammy…I know…” Dean took a deep breath and held on to his brother for dear life, still uncertain if they’d finally found their way out of the cloying dismay of normal, or if they had just both plunged head first into his deepest psychosis.


End file.
